Blonde to Black
by BrushyBrushyLoki
Summary: In which Loki is confused and his family is awkward OR: Loki tries to make things better and ends up making things worse (but they also get a tiny bit better, so it's not a complete loss). OR: Mythology shenanigans. Loki cuts off Sif's hair and has to get her some more. Will include sewing of lips, so be warned.


A/N: Okay, so I decided to go on with the mythological stuff that has to do with Loki having a crappy life. Also, I lied at the end of the first story; next up is NOT Hela, it's a oneshot (more may be added) of Sif getting dark hair, then Fenris before Hela.

So, if you really wanted to read this as a stand-alone, you could. But I don't recommend it. It's part 2. The first part is called Witch's Heart.

Thor's a dick. Odin's a dick. Loki's still naïve, but learning. This will go through how Sif gets black hair and Loki gets his mouth sewn shut.

Loki doesn't know how much time has passed since the hunting trip, but things have been weird between him and his brother, the Warriors Three, and Sif. Whenever he tries to start a conversation with any of them, they reply with the barest of answers and turn their faces away. Thor is a little better, but he speaks as though he's measuring his words, hiding something.

It feels wrong, because Thor just doesn't keep things from him. He gets angry with him, he fights him, he's called him every foul name in the book, but he's never deliberately withheld his words.

A nagging voice in Loki's head tells him that this has something to do with the hunting trip. He remembers eating the heart, collapsing in the woods, the waking up in the palace with a mess of bruises and scar tissue covering his lower abdomen, but nothing more.

When he asks about it, Frigga tells him to ask Odin. Odin tells him to ask Thor. Thor tells him to ask Frigga.

He's at a loss. How is he supposed to fix this when he doesn't even know what he did wrong? He feels like shouting at them to just come clean about what happened, but he knows that it wouldn't change anything, it would just make them drift further away.

He bides his time, hoping that it's just a phase, that it'll blow over soon, that in a few weeks they'll be back on speaking terms.

So he waits for three months to pass, and things have only gotten worse. People stop talking to him over meals, and they've altogether stopped trying to avoid talking to him, they just ignore him. It's like he's suddenly been thrust out of his own family. A seed of anger burrows itself into his heart.

Two more months trickle past, and the anger is firmly rooted, with tendrils of resentment and pain branching out of it like a withering weed. It knows that it can't be upset with Odin, because Odin is the All Father and knows everything, and besides, his father isn't acting all that different from how he usually does. It knows it can't be upset with Thor, because even if it was mostly Thor's fault, he doesn't give a shit about what Loki feels, and will just tell him to smash something if he talks to him about his feelings. It can't be upset with Frigga, because she gets obviously distressed when he asks about what happened, and he hates seeing her unhappy. It knows it can't be upset with the Warriors Three because that's all they are: warriors; they're Thor's warriors and they do what he tells them to.

So it directs itself at Sif. She's shown that she's more than capable of thinking for herself in the past, usually by using an underhanded method to steer the Mighty Pigheaded Prince of Asgard away from a dangerous or stupid path.

He glares at her as she struts around, thinking herself superior to every being in Asgard because of her prowess in battle and beauty. Oh, she views herself to be just as manly as the next fellow, from the way she walks and talks and eats and belches, but when she thinks nobody's looking, she'll smack her lips or cock her hip in a way that screams I'm female look at me. Oh, and they way she flips her hair! She's always got it in that tousled-but-still-perfect style, and it bounces when she walks like strings of sunlight over her shoulders.

It's absolutely beautiful, and he starts to hate it almost as much as Odin and Thor hate the frost giants.

It's the thing she treasures most about herself, he can tell by the way she primps and preens and swings it around when she turns her head.

_She could have stopped him_, whispers the weed of resentment. _She could have told him to stop being so childish, have talked him out of feeding him the heart,could have, could have, could have…_

It's all her fault, he hears it whisper one night as he tries to sleep through the ache in his chest. If she had stopped him, then they would still be talking to him, he would still have friends and a brother, and his mother wouldn't be repulsed by something that he can't even remember. He would still have a family if it wasn't for her.

He can't help but agree with the voice, because nobody is around to listen to his feelings, and nobody is around to tell him any different.

So instead of sleeping with the weight of abandonment settling on his chest, he slips out of his bed. He pauses, thinking of casting a cloaking spell over himself, but rejects the idea. Who would notice him? In the past months, he's become nothing more than a shadow.

He pads down the hall, not bothering to even quiet his footsteps, off into Thor's room. Not even a guard bothers to stop him; maybe being a shadow has its advantages.

Just as he suspected, his brother is sprawled across his bed with Sif stretched out over his chest. Her hair is fanned over his shoulder like a blanket spun from gold of the dwarves.

Good. He's never been one to balk at a heightened challenge.

With the touch that he would use on a lover, he sweeps her hair into his hands. It feels like moonlight on his fingertips.

He almost feels guilty as he runs a knife along the nape of her neck, slicing the rays of moonlight from her head. She snuffles in her sleep, but doesn't stir; Thor continues snoring like a bilgesnipe.

Once all the strands are limp in his hands, he retraeats from the bed with Sif's hair in his hand. Without her beautiful locks, she looks empty, like half of her has been taken away, and oh, is he glad. He's glad, he's gleeful, he's wickedly excited, because now they'll have no choice but to look him in the eye and talk to him (more likely yell at him, but at least they'll be forced to interact with him)…

… unless they don't discover that it was him who did the deed. But no, he can't have that, can he? He can't let such a brazen crime go unnoticed, or he'll be kept in his isolation.

So he ghosts back to the bed, summons a green thread of magic to hold the strands together, and lays them gently on the part of the pillow that Thor isn't taking up.

There, that ought to make his guilt obvious, even to one so dull as Thor.

End First Chapter

Gah, sorry this took so long! I'm doing my Senior Project, which doesn't leave a lot of time for writing when you combine it with all my other classes… I've been writing bits and pieces of this, but it probably won't get updated for a long time.

A note about mythology: This legend is centered on how Thor got Mjolnir and how Odin got his spear whose name starts with a G, but I'm pretty sure I mentioned Mjolnir in the previous fic. SO, I will be changing that. Eventually.


End file.
